


Alone at the Edge of a Universe

by doomenatta



Category: Slime Rancher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Growing Old Together, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomenatta/pseuds/doomenatta
Summary: Thora and Hobson know they don't have the lifetime they wish they could spend with one another, but they make every day count.





	Alone at the Edge of a Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Miracle Musical's "Welcome to the Snow." I feel like it really captures a lot of the feelings I have about Thora and Hobson. Hope you enjoy!

Selling his ranch was the best decision Hobson Twillgers had made in his entire life. 

Of course, he’d never sell it to just any wet-behind-the-ears rancher. He had made sure to get a genuine star trooper, and it seemed like he had found in Beatrix LeBeau. He’d made careful plans to not have too much contact with her, company rules and all that nonsense, but notes were allowed by 7Zee. He hoped that what he left her was sufficient, and from what he was hearing through Thora, he had succeeded on that front.

“Beatrix is doing well,” Thora said as she settled down into her rocking chair next to him. “Settling in nicely, it seems.” He held her hand. It was thinned and thickened by the battles of age and wrangling the Far, Far Range, both coming to combine in the age spots that were slowly taking over the tanned skin. He had held her so many times that this felt inherently natural; it felt like her hand had always fit his. It was hard to remember a time where this had not felt so easy.

That’s not to say that he couldn’t. He was old, but not that old. 

The Far, Far Range wasn't as big back then, and people could still buy their way in as long as they passed the tests. Colonization was still in progress, so 7Zee had ranchers share resources, but his land was far enough away from most that he hardly ever saw visitors until her.

She was beautiful; a stern, confident face that was indicative of a rancher status that was well earned and a body that looked as though she could kick his butt with ease (he wasn't much even back then. Hell, he barely weighed enough to pass his ETAC physical). She was gorgeous surrounded by all the purple outcrops that still looked alien to him. The sun that always seemed just slightly too bright shone down and highlighted her dark brown hair. It looked hastily done up, strands sticking out in odd places. She'd looked like she had been in a hurry to look for whatever it was she was after, so he had called out. And then the rest of his life had started with him being a good neighbor and her being startled out of her wits.

 “Can I help you find something?” he called out, already on the move to make his way down the slope of stone. Pebbles of violet scattered about his sliding feet as he made his descent, trying with all his might to keep his balance. She jumped, and her hand fell to the vacuum pack at her hip as her other clutched the side of a purple bluff. Pebbles scattered about her feet. She quickly scanned the area around her, a hard scowl on her face before her eyes swept over him and knocked his breath clean out of his lungs. To make matters worse, after that she had _smiled,_  and what a beautiful, charming smile it was, with half of it pulling up higher than the other. She made her way quickly over to him, making the hazardous jump down look graceful as all get out.

He very narrowly avoided the barreling path of a rock slime, jumping over it to meet her halfway. And then, her first words:

"This place is like a death trap."

That slightly southern accent was something that reminded him so much of home that he knew he would have to hear it again. 

"I know, I've been wantin' to put up some bridges here. Damn near trap myself sometimes coming around,” he struggled to maintain himself, and even though he was never the kind to show off, he had to admit that he had pulled his shoulders up just a bit higher once she turned her attention to him. She kept a watchful eye on the stray rock slime but nonetheless stuck out her hand with that same friendly smile on her lips.

“You much of a handyman?"

* * *

 He turned to her on their porch, watching that same face as it silently engaged the setting sun with awe that still hadn’t run out after near fifty years on the Range. The crystal wind chime he made her all those sunsets ago, still not too shabby if he did say so himself, caught the last of the dying orange rays. It threw them willy-nilly across her visage.

* * *

 “My god, Thora, what in the world happened to your face?”

She smiled and waved him off, taking the lunch he had made for her with a word of thanks.

“Just a mishap. Wasn’t able to get to my ranch in time to stop the scarring process, though, and it seems I’m left with this ugly mug,” she dug in with a voracious intensity. Hobson was still in awe of the major blemish that she now donned as he started in on his own meal. The most he could manage was meager pickings because he was drawn to her face again and again.

What she said actually sunk in when he finished about half of his meal. “Your mug is anything but ugly,” he trailed off, craning his neck to try and look at the light scar stretching across her face. She covered it with her hand, wrinkled her brow at him and stuck her tongue out after swallowing. “Was it a tarr that did that to you?”

“I told you it’s nothing to worry about,” Thora scolded. She stabbed her fork into a stray piece of the Hen Hen Hobson had slaughtered that day, and asked, “How’ve you been holding out?”

He still wasn’t satisfied with her explanation, but he knew by then that trying to get Thora West to budge on something was about as useful as trying to move a mountain.

* * *

 “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

Her soft smile deepened, crinkling the crow's feet at the edges of her eyes even deeper as she turned to him. She started to talk about things on the ranch: the feeders that needed reloading tomorrow, the new ideas she had for rotations of largos. Hobson found himself smiling along.

* * *

He was nearly mute with nerves. The ride on the teleporter here was a long one, but he knew it would be safe. At least, it was safe enough to get his luggage through with ease. A whole person load may have been a different story, but he had somehow gotten even more slight with his old age. When he got there, however, he stood there, smiling a smile he knew looked absolutely ridiculous. She was there to meet him, just like she said.

“You finally decided to show up,” she said with a grin that matched his own. “Was worried you’d stick me with all your crap and take off.”

“Oh, I’m a little late, I know,” he said, dropping his gear and walking towards his final journey. “Better late than never, though.”


End file.
